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| Mad Brother Ward and Antiseen about to take the stage, first show ever without the almighty Joe Young |
Bands like Antiseen don't come around that often and we can only hope that many more will collectively live on and create such a great legacy. Hats off to everyone in the Antiseen camp and for all the bands that will carry the torch to take their art, into the decades to come.
Can't quite remember who the old punker was that told me this, but he said we needed to last ten years to create our relevance and respect. Every day those words are thought about and we are only half way there, but sure as hell a long ways off from doing what needs to be done. Here is keeping the torch lit and the fire in the soul.
Read more from Noise For The Sake Of Noise
"I’ve been sitting here staring at my screen for about an hour trying to process and put into words the events of this past weekend. It seems like it went screaming past without so much as glance. So now I’m trying to sift and sort my memories in hope of capturing some semblance of what occurred. I do know this easily and readily; it was an absolute blast…
Friday afternoon we slowly winded our way through the Great
Smoky Mountains and on over into Tennessee to our destination; a tiny town
known as Cookeville. We arrived, checked into our lodgings and soon
rendezvoused with our old pal, filmmaker Jason Griscom. We then followed the
route that winded its way straight into nowhere, made a left turn and went even
farther out. It is here the June Bug
Ranch is located, site of the Muddy Roots Festival. Muddy Roots is a three day
barrage of punk rock, country, rockabilly, blues and folk. Past festivals have
featured a diverse array of luminaries such as Dr. Ralph Stanley, Black Flag,
and Billy Joe Shaver. This year was the
largest yet, featuring Mudhoney, the Weirdos, the Blasters and Bobby Bare. ANTiSEEN
wasn’t scheduled to perform until 6:00pm the following evening, but we wanted
to get there early to see one of the headlining acts: spiritual ascendants,
forefathers and garage rock legends the Sonics.
If you recall the film Apocalypse Now envision something
akin to a cross between the scene when the Playboy Bunnies perform and the
bridge at D’o Lung. Assorted vendors pedaled their wares in tents, trucks and
trailers. The smell of sausage, sweat and stale beer hung in the air. Random
people on motorcycles and golf carts zip about aimlessly. Fireworks
periodically explode in the sky. The term ‘organized chaos’ would be apt. Several
hundred acres of rolling hills transformed into a tent city populated with the
children and grandchildren of Flower Power, Women’s Lib, Punk Rock and No Nukes.
This is where the naïve hippy idealism of Woodstock and the wanton mindless violence
of Altamont genetically merge. Its spawn are the refuse of middle class
America; a dystopian sub-culture of tattooed and pierced ruffians raised on
fast-food, cable tv and heavy-metal music.
We make our way to the main stage, aptly called the Old Wood
Stage. My initial thought was the clapboard contraption would hardly withstand
the weight of our gear. I can’t claim the veracity of the age but it certainly
looked old and indeed was made of wood, half of which was covered by corrugated
tin seemingly of equal old age. The lip of the tin roof was lined by a string
of stage lights illuminating a mass of assorted equipment strewn across the
boards being readied for the show.
The Sonics take what feels like forever getting ready, but
when they finally kick in it’s incredible. These dudes are as old as my parents
and rock harder than most young bands going today. Which proves that actual age
is irrelevant; spirit has longevity.
Opening with the bomb blast of ‘Cinderella’ and charging on through one classic
after another, from “The Witch” to “He’s Waiting” to “Boss Hoss” to “Have Love
Will Travel” to delivering the one-two knockout punch of “Psycho” and
“Strychnine”. The Sonics delivered a solid,
good old-fashioned ass whuppin’ and left my ears ringing. Moreover they played
some new unreleased material that sounded as vital and killer as their classic
stuff. We left duly inspired.
Returning the following afternoon we killed time wandering
about the festival grounds checking out the ancillary vendors and auxiliary
stages located in large tents. The Rusty Knuckles folks had constructed a large
booth allowing us ample room to set up and sell merchandise. Although initially
overcast, the sun soon broke through the clouds and it appeared it was gonna
shape up to be a pleasant evening.
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| Jeff Clayton of Antiseen |
We are given the high-sign to load our gear onstage. The
organizers thoughtfully provided a handful of volunteer stagehands to assist
us. We set up, do a quick check of the monitors and suddenly with minutes to go
until show time, the sky opens forth with a torrential rain. I’m talking monsoon. The sound crew scurries to
cover their gear and shut down all power onstage. Fortunately we are high and
dry under the tin roof of the stage. On either side there are embankments that
quickly flood. People have unwisely set up camp in these low-lying areas and
are suddenly forced to confront what has essentially become a small river
running through their tents. I can’t help but snicker at their dilemma. A
port-a-jon begins to tip, threatening to flip over completely. People begin to
watch it wobble in the rapidly rising water as it were a prize fight, some
cheering for the water, some for the port-a-jon. The jon wins, remaining
upright however I think its contents were voided in the floodwater. Pity those
downstream…
Former ANTiSEEN drummer Phil Keller has showed up along with Owen
Mays, a longtime friend and fan of the band. Mays is also a talented and
respected musician in his own right. We pass the time talking wrestling and
guitars. Still, I’m nervous and anxious to play. The extended last minute delay
chafes my sense of order but not my overall good mood. After about an hour it
finally lets up and decent crowd has gathered, braving the elements and is
anxiously waiting. Finally we are given the go-ahead to play. I am somewhat out
of sorts with my equipment but there is no time left to fuck around.
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| The great flood of 2014 happened at Muddy Roots |
Clayton introduces us and before I can even think we’re off
and running. We blast through the songs in rapid succession and I suddenly
realize that I’m running largely on instinct. The volume of my Hiwatt amp seems
to reverberate through me. I ground myself steadfastly in front of it, feeling
the power surge knowing I’m controlling it. My Telecaster growls and howls and
I love it. It’s an awesome sensation. I can’t hear the others very well and the
stage is slick from the rain. Trying not
to slip I look again and the crowd has easily quadrupled in size. I’m learning
on my feet, realizing this shit is not as easy as it looks. I’ve played guitar
in other bands, but this is another beast entirely. I make a major mistake,
losing the end of ‘Black Eyed Suzy’ completely. I learn the hard way if I don’t
hold on to the reigns tightly I’m gonna get bucked. It’s a good lesson for me,
I needed it. Gooch grins at me good naturedly, knowing exactly what I’m
thinking. I get about a nanosecond to catch my breath and we continue. Before I
know it I’m churning out the opening chords of “Fuck All Y’all”, our final
song. As it climaxes, Jeff takes his
scrub board and sets it on fire. I churn out droning feedback while Barry and
Gooch play a shuffle beat.
And then, as suddenly as it began, it’s over.
I walk to the rear of the stage and am suddenly embraced by
Clayton. This was his first ANTiSEEN show without Joe Young. I know it’s a
heavy moment for him but he’s clearly pleased.
Then I hear the crowd. They are chanting “ONE MORE SONG!! ONE MORE
SONG!!” We return for a quick encore and
then we are done
Standing on the side of the stage is a familiar face. It’s
Zander Schloss from the Circle Jerks. He also plays bass for the equally
legendary Weirdos, who are playing after us. He shakes my hand, introduces
himself and tells me my guitar sounded killer. Captain Sean from Throw Rag
appears from the dark, gives me a hug and tells me “Thank-you”. My mind is
blown. These are heroes of mine. We pack up the gear and I drink a celebratory
beer, watch the Weirdos kick ass and then, exhausted, finally return to the
motel.
I’m notorious for my harsh critique of most any and all
things, but I reserve the harshest judgment for myself. I admittedly made some
mistakes losing focus amid my nervous energy, but ultimately I feel really
good about how it came off. And this is only the beginning. There are a lot of
things in the pipeline heading on through fall and into 2015. In a few weeks
we’ll be out on the road with the infamous Meatmen. So heads up. It’s gonna be killer.
Now get ready to get down and get with it….
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| The author, Mad Brother Ward |
